


D.E.E.P (like the trench)

by TGP



Category: Original Work
Genre: Child Soldiers, Cryogenics, F/F, F/M, Genetic Engineering, M/M, Water World, scifi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-22
Updated: 2019-10-14
Packaged: 2020-09-24 05:08:24
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,362
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20352892
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TGP/pseuds/TGP
Summary: T013 is ejected from his comfortable life in the Azure Dome when he's deemed genetically insignificant to the breeding pool due to a failed experiment in telepathy. He enters the world of the Swimmers, the military force of genetically unfit individuals who live fast and die hard protecting the Dome from outside threats.Quite on accident, T013 ends up embroiled in the mystery of his home, a massive enclosed vessel floating within the endless oceans of his world, and the conflict between Domers and Barbaroi, people who chose to live on the open waters rather that submit themselves to the Will of the Dome. Added to that the threat of the antagonistic Phthalo Dome, he has his work cut out for him.And he has to do that all while feeling emotions for the first time. It's a bad time.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is the second draft of the first chapter for my in the works YA scifi novel. I figured I'd share it with y'all and see what you think.

The lift is not dark or cold or otherwise out of the ordinary, but T013 finds his feet locked in place at the open threshold anyway. His boots seem bolted to the floor and he has to look to them to make sure they aren't. There is only one step between him and the lift but it seems so illogically farther than that. He's not sure why his mind keeps centering on that. There's no merit in imagining things as he was not specced for engineering and he's never been prone to it before. Perhaps because he's missed his afternoon Tranquility dose.

Once T013 takes the last step inside, the lift door closes with a barely perceptible click. He doesn't feel it when the descent begins but there is a steady change in the floor count to let him know of it. He watches the numbers go up one by one as the seconds pass by and feels the air pressure raise. It shouldn't, not the way the column is fully pressurized and kept even, but the feeling doesn't leave. It presses tight around his chest and digs into his ribs. T013 makes a mental note to inform his new supervisor of the issue.

The number finally pauses several levels down from the main level and a moment later the lift door is open and a long, dark hallway spreads before him. T013 moves out slowly and his steps echo in the near perfect silence. It's warmer here, the air still and heavy in his lungs as if someone had turned the ambient humidity up. No signs point to his destination but there are also no doors to confuse it, only a light at the end of the tunnel. As he walks along the hall, the pressure continues to worsen and his heart quickens to compensate. He'll definitely need to report this. If the internal pressure anywhere in the Dome exceeds recommended levels, it could blow out the compartment and threaten stability for all surrounding compartments. There hasn't been a containment breach outside of combat in centuries but the possibility is no less dangerous than it was before. Every Domer learns how to minimize risk within the creches.

At the end of the hall is a door with no markings. He stands before it for several minutes, still and patient, but it stays shut. Perhaps they aren't ready for him. Perhaps he should wait. He has no other orders than to meet with his new commander, designation Z329. What his new duties will be, T013 doesn't know. He'd spent the last year readying for the Meyer's treatment while dutifully notating experiment results for other Bat teams in neat, precise records. It is all he knows how to do. Before being chosen for the treatment experiment, he'd thought nothing of doing that same task for the rest of his life. He has few skills he would consider important for combat.

His chest tightens further. T013 reaches up, resting a hand against it, and wonders if perhaps the pressure is going to implode his heart or lungs. He will have little recourse if it does. Yes. He will definitely inform someone once he finds out where they are.

As time continues moving on, T013 waits dutifully at the door. He's unsure what might be behind it but it's starting to become clear that he's not going to be fetched. It feels strange to reach for the knob instead of waiting for it to open on its own. The door isn't locked when he tugs it open but the sudden brightness of the room past it has him shielding his eyes for several moments. He can't see much past that until he takes a few steps inside and then isn't sure what to make of what he does.

Whatever he'd considered the military levels might look like, T013 is wrong. White noise fills in the spaces around him, a low hum of machinery that he knows well from the labs. It's louder here and the tall shelves near the door are filled to the brim with devices he can't identify. They look half finished with missing plates and exposed wiring showing all over. T013's fingers twitch with the directive to tidy them. With the wiring so mixed up, how could anyone keep it all straight? He studies the light pattern on one device he thinks might be a desalination unit but he's never seen one in such a shape. He leaves it for now, moving through the maze of shelving into the main area of what turns out to be a lab. Something settles in his chest at the familiarity, even if it looks very little like any lab he's ever been in.

Before, he would expect clean lines and order, cleanliness to the highest degree. What he sees is none of these things. The lab space is a chaotic shuffle of counters, tables, and equipment. He spies several smaller items on the floor, even a chair turned over on one end of the room and being used to hold up a table. The tile under his feet is marred with scuffs and divots, off color in several places. The exposed metal wall plates with their visible lines of rivets are little different but there seems to have been at least a token effort to shine them. Whoever takes care of this space has been neglectful. Perhaps he should report that as well.

Before T013 can decide on a course of action, something bangs on one side of the lab before a person jerks up to their feet. T013 stills as his gaze zones in on streaks of purple mixed into messy, tangled curls of brown. It isn't a regulation style and when the person turns to face him, T013 realizes he doesn't recognize the breed, either. The woman stares at him a moment as she tucks back some of her hair behind her ear and then her mouth spreads wide over her face in a manner that seems almost painful, especially when she bares her teeth. 

"Just take a seat, I'll be right there," she says in a bizarrely varied set of tones and then ducks down behind the counter again. The vagueness of the order leaves him unsure of exactly what she wants. There are several places to sit. T013 finally settles for the one closest to him and then waits. The woman's voice flows over the machinery noise here and there, too indistinct to make out, but the way it pitches and wavers is nothing like what he's used to. _None_ of this is. T013's eyes fall to his hands, resting lightly on his knees. 

This is the first day of the rest of his life. He's never taken much notice of the phrase before when he's heard it in his studies or in passing, but right now it seems to mean something entirely different. He is no longer a citizen. He is no longer significant. He has _failed_. The thoughts fly through his mind without cause or want. If this is a side effect of the dwindling level of Tranquility in his bloodstream, it may get worse. The idea is unsettling.

"Sorry about that," the woman says abruptly and T013 looks up to watch her approach, growing more puzzled by her with each step. The tight curls of her hair would lead him to identifying her as a Lion but a sheen of vivid green in her eyes discounts it. The brown of her skin isn't dark enough either and her entire shape seems off as well. There's the slightest wobble to her steps, favoring one side, but she doesn't seem to be in pain and he can't see any kind of obvious physical deformity. Then again, she likely wouldn't have been allowed to finish gestating had there been any. Even her clothing is wrong, a loose undershirt with bright, colorful markings he doesn't recognize and layers of cloth hanging from her hips all the way down to her bare feet. He stares at them for a while before her voice brings his attention back up again. "So! You're the new guy, right?"

"You're off-breed," he observes and the woman blinks a few times before letting loose a series of startling high pitched barks. The inexplicable noise continues for several seconds as she slaps her open hand against her thigh.

"Man, you are not going to be well liked down here," she says as she reaches up to wipe tears from her eyes, her mouth still stretched and open. He's getting more sure that she's in pain and is unsure if he should find a medic. "What'd they tell you before they shoved you in the drop?"

"I am to report to Z329," he responds dutifully. 

"Good, good. Well, lets get this going then." Brushing her hands off on her skirts, she reaches out for an idling slab unit from a near counter and taps at it. "I'm Corpse Fucker and I'll be your doctor today and directing all the best horrors your way."

T013 nods, filing the odd designation away. The Swimmer Corps did things differently; he knew this coming into it. What she means by horrors is a mystery but he doubts it can be much more upsetting than anything else he's already seen. Corpse Fucker stares at him a moment before her mouth stretches again and she begins making the repetitive sound again. "Oh man, I never get tired of you new guys before the Tranquility wears off."

Because he would not be getting any more of it. If a lack of Tranquility causes such strange actions, he doesn't look forward to his own lack. 

"Hope you're not a crier," she says as she gathers things up. "We've got a lot of vaccinations to get done."

"My medical care is up to date-"

"Domers don't need this shit. You ain't a Domer anymore so unless you want to lose a limb to rot, I'd suggest you keep still and let me do my thing."

The unstated surety of her words brings a slow, rolling clench to his belly. She's right, he knows this, but hearing it stated so plainly feels... different. He's not a Domer anymore. He never will be again. His skin feels hot as he begins to sweat despite the relative coolness of the room.

"I'm ready for my vaccinations, Corpse Fucker," he says finally and the repetitive noise comes again, this time lasting long enough that T013 wonders if she'll break something. When he spots tears at the corners of her eyes, he starts to rise only to have her wave him away. She wipes at her eyes, little catches in her breathing remaining from the outburst. 

"Woo, never gets old. Sorry, I couldn't help myself. I'm actually called the Reanimator." Why she chose to give him false information first is puzzling but the Reanimator continues on without pausing before he can ask. "What about you?"

He opens his mouth to answer and then stops, realizing he doesn't know. T013 is a number for a Domer and has likely already been assigned to one of the newest born citizens of his breed. He will have been assigned a new designation but it hasn't been communicated to him. As he sits in silence, T013 wonders why, exactly, it feels as if something is being pulled right out of him through his chest. He touches it, just to be sure, but feels nothing. 

"We can go with what you were called before," the Reanimator says in a lower, quieter voice that is almost the even cadence he knows from above. 

"It isn't accurate," he maintains, even as he manages to look her in the face again. There is no value to one designation or another but he had _always _been T013 before.

"Doesn't have to be down here. No reason to change things just yet. There's gonna be enough you gotta get used to without throwing a new name on top of it." 

That settles him. He nods, despite what her words point to for the future. Until designation Z329 tells him different, he will stay as he has been. "I am designation T013."

"Nice to meet you. Now that we're all acquainted, gimme your arm. It's time to stab it a bunch of times."

The Reanimator rolls up the sleeve of his tunic, exposing more skin to the open air, and then rubs something pungent on it with a soft applicator stick. T013 watches the dark colored liquid settle on his skin, making it even colder as it dries there. A disinfectant surely, but he's never seen one with such a pungent scent. It makes his nose twitch. He watches the Reanimator step away to ready an injection with the largest syringe he's ever seen. Is she going to inject him with a new tracking tag since his designation has changed? He'd thought she said this was a vaccination.

The injection is quick but painful. T013 finds his teeth pressed tight together as the seconds pass and it's still going on. If it's a new tracker, his old one will have been deactivated. He wonders if it will pass out of his system or continue to reside in the same place under his skin. He's never known anyone to get a new one except after catastrophic malfunctions, and even that was so rare he'd only heard of one case in the full extent of his lifetime.

"Got it," the Reanimator says unnecessarily as she removes the syringe and places a small bandage over the wound. "Tell your team leader if you start feeling sick and they'll probably laugh at you but you'll be fine. If the arm falls off, you're shit out of luck."

T013 looks at the bandage and then back to her face, unsure just how serious she's being.

"Why are you re-administering my vaccinations?" he asks because it doesn't make sense to. His are supposed to be life long.

"You ever heard of lung rot?"

He tries to think if he has and cannot remember anything of the like. "No."

"Trust me, you don't want to know and this'll make sure if you ever do, it probably won't kill you." The Reanimator sets the empty syringe down and picks up another one. "This one's just a booster for pertussis. Then you've got circle worm, diptho, Jacob's, tetanus..."

T013 doesn't recognize any of these. It takes several injections before she's finished and she babbles the entire time. He tries to retain all of it, unsure of what will be important to his new duties that he hasn't been apprised of yet. Will Z329 come to assign him soon? He hopes so. It's better to have his hands busy. The more he has to do, the less time his mind has to consider what's changing.

"Alecto oughta be here for you soon," the Reanimator says, drawing him out of his thoughts. She pushes a glass into his hand and he starts to drink it automatically. He pauses after the first mouthful. It does not taste as it should. The water is clear and room temperature with no sign of tampering, but…

"Get used to it." When he gives her a quizzical look, she just sighs. "The Domers get the good filters. There's gonna be remnants in our water, but it's safe enough not to cause problems."

That makes some amount of sense. Domers are genetically significant. It makes sense to assure those genes wouldn't be damaged by environmental factors. He drinks the rest of it in measured sips as the Reanimator handles cleaning and disposing of her tools. This isn't so bad. He'll get used to it with time.

The Reanimator gives him a meal bar, dry and relatively tasteless, and goes back to talking about little that seems important. He stops trying to disseminate meaning from her words. His eyes drift instead to the doorway. Is Alecto Z329's agent? It's a strange designation he doesn't quite understand. There's as little reason to it as the Reanimator's. Perhaps it will be explained to him.

He's only eaten half of the meal bar when someone shows up. The woman is... She at least is recognizably Lion breed but that is where the familiarity ends. Her hair is tightly bound away from her face but still longer than the regulations he's familiar with. There's a sharpness to her eyes, something that has him straightening up in his seat as she judges him. He's not sure what to think of that. The bright red of her uniform jacket is a huge contrast to the dark brown of her skin and her pitch black hair. It's the first definite sign of the military he's seen so far, though that is sure to change. He'll wear this color soon enough, like all Swimmer personnel.

"Alecto! Fashionably late as always," the Reanimator says without taking any care for keeping her voice even and using strange inflections on nearly every word.

"Can it. And stop calling me that. You're not on my team." Alecto stalks towards them and T013 watches the unevenness of her gait. She favors her right leg and he wonders why the apparent injury hasn't already been dealt with as the Reanimator's hadn't. Surely the Swimmers have access to cell regenerators. "You with the dumb look on your face. Tell me that they at least did your weapons training before they sent your sorry hide down."

"That would be a lie."

Alecto stares at him hard, her brows bunched tight and mouth pressed into a thin line. Then she turns on the Reanimator. "He's still doped?"

"To the gills, sir."

Rolling her eyes, Alecto mutters a quick word too low for him to understand. "Of course. Now I get to hold his hand through detox and reintegration for the next six months. Wonderful. Just get ready for the next ones. They're apparently sending us three more today for K387's team."

"You got it. Glad they're finally rebuilding after that fiasco but why Z hasn't bumped him down to infantry, I've got no idea."

"Tell me about it. The faster I get Kyrie back for good the better. I'm just waiting for K387 to get her blown up like the rest of his team."

Blown up- T013 has a few ideas on what she means and none of them are pleasant. He gets up as they bicker and catches Alecto's attention. She gives him a narrow eyed look and then heads back to the door. "Come on then, boy. We've got too much to do to dawdle."

But... T013 stands still. "I'm to report to Z329."

Abruptly, Alecto stops. She doesn't turn around and her hands curl into fists at her sides. "If you actually get called to see him, I'll be surprised as shit. You're mine. Replacement for the one I just lost. Now get the fuck over here and don't give me trouble or I swear I'll drown you myself."

He isn't sure how honest she's being. So far, he has observed the Swimmers lie for little reason he can conceive. Glancing at the Reanimator, it becomes clear he should treat Alecto with deference no matter the apparent veracity of her statements. T013 starts after her and when she hears his footsteps, she leaves the lab.

Just as he gets into the hall, the Reanimator yells after them. "Tell Verne he owes me some caf next time you guys totally don't meet that unsanctioned merchant boat!"

"Stop trying to get my team into supporting your bad habit," Alecto says harshly back at her without missing a step. Repeating barks softly echo behind them. Alecto ignores it and T013 follows her lead. He's not sure exactly where she's taking him or what role she has but it's difficult not to simply follow her wishes. He doesn't have a reason not to.

"I'm Z862, but as you've heard, some idiot decided to call me 'Alecto' and it stuck. About the only one who still uses my actual designation these days is the commander," she says after several minutes. Her limp grows more obvious the longer he watches. He's not sure why he keeps noticing that. "I'm your team leader. We're on Deck C and get stuck with a lot of last minute bullshit missions but if you survive two of them, I'll be pleasantly surprised."

What those missions entail, T013 doesn't know. He's always had the vague notion that the Swimmers fight antagonistic domes and marauding Barbaroi troops but how has never been described. It wasn't something he'd ever had to know and he'd had no reason to ask. That he might see it in person is intriguing, especially Barbaroi. They said Barbaroi bred indiscriminately and were heavily deformed from it, monsters with the traits of the beasts floating in their seas.

"I'll pair you with E783 for weapons training. I think he's trying out 'Jonas' this week, but hell if I bother to keep up with it." Is changing one's designation so common place? He's not sure why when the new designations seem so randomized and arbitrary. They say nothing of breed, batch, or even job description. T013 doesn't understand the purpose.

They get to a lift and T013 dutifully follows her onto it. So close, he realizes that she's a lot shorter than him. Lions typically were a taller breed but maybe that's why she's here. A mutation causing short stature is not a feature they would want to breed into the bloodline, as far as he knows.

This lift isn't nearly as smooth as the one that'd taken him from the Dome proper. It catches with every floor, groaning on and off as the hydraulics slowly drop it down the shaft.

"Morning muster is at 0700 but you'll have to head up to A deck to find anyone who gives a shit about it," Alecto says and T013 doesn't actually know what 'muster' means. He files it internally to ask later if it doesn't get explained in the meantime. "I only care you show up for mission briefings even if you have to drag your sorry carcass out of bed five minutes after you got there."

Is he likely to be told to forgo sleep? That could be detrimental to his physical health in the long run.

"Don't bother Gadget. She's actually useful to me and I won't bat an eye if she stabs you in yours," Alecto continues as they drop past another floor. "Verne's liable to trick you just for the hell of it, so feel free to take anything he says as truth."

T013 is fairly sure she's being farcical. Fairly.

"If you find a reason to be around C126 outside missions, that's on you. E783's a little weird but that's box sickness for you. Nahoa's all right when you get past what he is. Hell, who am I forgetting..." She's quiet as the lift settles on their floor, tapping the fingers of her hand one at a time. "Oh, right. If you wanna sleep with Kyrie, that's your business. Just don't cry to me if you find her in someone else's bed after that."

So much of what she says makes no sense at all. T013 doesn't say so, not wanting to get himself drowned for it. Maybe someone else will answer his questions.

The lift finally settles with a metallic rattle. The door slides open a few seconds later and Alecto heads out immediately, T013 careful to keep up with her swift pace. Around them is a round, hub like room with several open hallways on every side of it. The walls are just as unfinished as the lab had been but swaths of red paint mapped out odd symbols above every hall entrance, each unique from the rest. As Alecto moves towards one in particular, he realizes the symbol is the same that she has stitched into the breast pocket of her uniform. A team marking?

There are others in the hub as well, most all of them young as he is. They watch him with odd expressions, features twisted in ways he doesn't recognize or understand. If he ever does manage to, he'll be surprised.

There is a security doorway but after Alecto touches her palm to the reader, it opens easily for them. Immediately, he's assaulted with more repetitive barking and then a louder voice declaring, "And if you don't stay the _fuck_ out of my workroom, I am going to string you up by your testicles!"

T013 wonders what exactly that could be about. Alecto just sighs, shaking her head as her mouth twists in a way that seems almost painful. He almost asks if she's injured but decides it would be better not to. She does not appear to care for him speaking to her.

"If you'd stop leaving your shit around, maybe I wouldn't have to," says another voice, deeper than the first and quieter. T013 wishes he understood the way the voices jump in pitch over and over. Alecto and the Reanimator are the same. Did everyone in the military speak this way? Would he, given time and exposure? He's not sure he wants to assimilate that way.

Since Alecto doesn't stop walking, he doesn't either. Her brows are bunching up again as she gets to the final doorway.

"If there's blood on the floor, you're cleaning it up with your tongues," she says with a stressed tightness he can't identify. Not that he's been able to identify much when it comes to the oddly elastic quality of their faces and voices and the way their speech is peppered with imprecise language and incomprehensible jargon. He doesn't know what shit is or why it's so objectionable to have in the common areas.

Said common area is nearly as wide as the hub had been. There are a few doors leading off it but it seems to be the main gathering place. Worn chairs are arranged in a vague semicircle around a viewing screen with various tables set around them in a more haphazard way. More chairs sit up against one of the far walls with a table that has some kind of grid inlaid on it, a black and red series of squares with small shaped pieces sitting on it. A boy sits there, Wolf breed most likely, slouched in the chair like he's slowly falling out of it. He doesn't bother straightening when they come inside. His brown hair is too long, falling into his pale face, and tiny brown spots dot his skin at random. The uniform jacket is missing and he sits only with a simple black shirt and pants, not even wearing shoes.

"Oh hey. You must be the new cannon fodder," he says, stretching the words out longer than he has to. Near him stands a Crane girl who's face is even more bunched and lined than Alecto's. Her black hair is at a nearly respectable length, at least. Long enough to fall over her forehead and would be in her eyes if she hadn't parted it, but the rest is tidily shorn nearly to her skull. Still long, but that seems to be the norm in Military. Would he have to grow his out? He's not sure he'll be effective that way. Bats usually kept their hair cut to the skull all around.

"Stop staring at me," the Crane says. Her voice is low and even but he doubts this is a sign of approval. Not the way her brows have bunched so tightly that there's a visible fold of skin between them. She's not even wearing a proper shirt, standing there in her thin undershirt with pants far too big for her wire thin frame held up by a tight belt on a hand cut notch. "Did he get knocked in the head?"

"No, they just sent him without detoxing," Alecto explains.

The Crane rolls her eyes and then waves her hand at the Wolf one more time before heading to one door at a swift pace. T013 catches sight of machines and parts littering the floor before the door slams behind her. The work room, he guesses. No one seems particularly surprised about the behavior so T013 resolves not to either. He turns back to the Wolf, who's moving to stand and come towards him.

"Man, your pupils are _blown_," he says. "Tranquility is some potent shit, isn't it?"

T013 has no idea what he means.

"Literal," Alecto says like she is reminding them of something. "Remember when E783 was new."

"Gotcha." The Wolf peers at T013 longer with intentions that aren't clear. "Well. Time to be polite. I'm Verne."

"'Verne's liable to trick you just for the hell of it, so feel free to take anything he says as truth'," T013 recites and Verne's eyes grow wide before he starts making the same repetitive sounds the Reanimator had. They're differently pitched, longer, and it doesn't go on nearly as long. He still doesn't know what the behavior means.

"Got my number already, huh?" Verne's mouth is widely stretched to show his teeth. "It's all good. For me, at least. Life's gonna suck the next few months for you."

That sounds ominous. T013's belly clenches but he merely nods. Whatever 'detox' entails, they would know better than he. Deferring to their experience is logical enough.

"Where's E783?" Alecto asks, rubbing her temples.

"Jonas went to report to Zion."

Alecto's eyes roll in a movement that somehow takes her entire head to complete. "Will you stop calling him that? Your idiocy has infected enough people without trying to drag officers into it."

"Zion's cool," Verne says, directing it to T013 instead of his team leader. "Don't bother with any of the other ones - they're all useless - but Zion's your man if you need something off-regs."

"Don't tell him that!" Alecto's voice is so sharp that T013 finds his body straightening abruptly in response. "One cadet pushing too hard at people he has no business bothering is enough. I will _not_ let you lead this one down the same path."

"Oh, relax. I'm not that bad."

"You absolutely are. The things you ask for _don't exist._"

Verne waves a hand her way. "Details. Sure, they don't exist. Yet."

Her eyes are so narrow that T013 wonders if she can see at all. He glances between the two of them and stays very still so as to not gain back their attention. Sometime soon, he may need to be moved to a more coherent group. There must be a procedure for that. Any well designed system would have one.

"Go find Jonas and bring him back here once he's done with Zi- _now you've got me doing it!_" Alecto says as she jerks her fisted hands down at her sides, her face muscles tightening up even more than before. Verne's mouth somehow manages to stretch further before he moves past T013, knocking his shoulder along the way, and goes out the way they'd come in.

"You'll get used to him. Or you won't, I don't really care." Alecto jerks her head to one side and then walks that way. T013 follows behind. He looks around the communal space to note off things painted on the walls around it but soon they go through another door. The military floors are like a maze. He'll have to spend considerable time committing it all to memory. This hall has five doors, two on each side and one at the end. They're all numbered on dull plaques that need to be polished. Stopping at a door marked 02, Alecto pushes it open.

"Here is your bunk. You're in with Jonas. Don't bother complaining if you don't like it." Inside are two beds on either side of the small room with a shelving unit between them. Uniforms are carefully folded and stacked on one end of the shelf with a few odd items on the top level. The other side is empty and waiting for him, he would assume.

"Verne's across the hall with Nahoa. Kyrie and Gadget are next to them." She points them out as she continues down the hall of dormitory blocks. "End of the hall is me and don't you dare knock on that door unless someone is dead."

He waits a moment, then asks, "What about the one beside mine?"

Alecto stops. Her face clenches up again, but it's different this time. He doesn't know why that is or what it means. "Don't open that door. If you hear anything in there, you ignore it."

"What is the purpose?"

"None of your goddamn business is what." Turning to him, she motions towards his block door. "Familiarize yourself. There's a data port in the common room if you want to look anything up. Otherwise, I don't want to see your face until 1800 for dinner."

She disappears into her room, slamming the door shut hard. T013 stays where he is as his eyes slide to the door marked 04. There is no reason to disobey her. He still wonders. Turning back to his block, he follows the order to familiarize himself with its contents. There is little of note. Even the occupied side is carefully clean and tidy. Jonas appears to subscribe to the same cleanliness habits as people in the Dome. For some reason, that makes him feel less uncomfortable.

This is his new life. He can't waste time waiting for it to make sense again. It's time to adapt. Surely, it won't be too difficult.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thought I might release another chapter. :D

There's no change to the light on the military floors. Without the clear glass Dome above or any kind of windows, the hours feel slow as T013 waits in his new block. Jonas never arrives, nor does anyone come to give him daily tasks. It's... not ideal.

Like the first level, it's warmer than he'd expected. He wonders if perhaps the team dorms are situated near the engines and then what they might even look like. Maybe he'll ask to see them. Domers have no need for the information as only the Swimmers and other non-citizens handle functions like that, but he's not a Domer anymore. Without a task given to him, he'll have to go out and find one. T013 might not be as suited to manual work as a Lion or Wolf but he's sure he'll be useful somehow.

Five minutes from 1800, T013 gets up and goes back to the common area. There's someone waiting but no one he recognizes. The boy is older than him and not recognizably a breed, even off-breed. He seems to have traits from several. His dark brown hair is short and messy, hanging across his forehead like T013’s seen with some of the others. His skin isn't much lighter but has a warmer tone to it T013 would expect in Foxes. The boy is dressed much as Verne had been but there is one thing that draws his attention. Around the boy's wrist, faded with age, is a single black line. T013 has no idea what kind of meaning could be ascribed to such a simple piece of jewelry or even why a Swimmer would decide to wear one.

The boy notices him and glances over. His eyes are deep blue like the ocean waters surrounding the Dome, slanted like a Crane. T013 has never seen someone with that combination. Whatever bizarre breed contamination created him hadn't been repeated, or simply had been deemed genetically insignificant immediately. 

T013 watches the boy look him over and doesn't know what he's looking for or whether he finds it.

"You're the one that's replacing Sarah," he says and T013 isn't sure how to answer that.

"I haven't been told. Who is Sarah?"

His lips twist in a way T013 hasn't seen before and has even less idea how to categorize. "Don't worry about it."

The boy comes closer. He holds out his hand. What T013 had taken for a bracelet isn't. It appears to be a marking directly in his skin. Whether it's purposeful or punitive, T013 has no idea. There's webbing between the boy's fingers, starting at his base-most knuckle down. It's thinner than the rest of his skin, showing the blood coursing through it that shades the membrane an almost sickly purple. This is a _mutation_. T013 had known they happened but he's never seen one. Mutations like this tend to be caught early, even before being placed within a permanent infancy creche. T013 glances between that strange hand and the boy's face before lifting his own to mimic the motion.

"You're supposed to take hold of it," the boy says and then moves to wrap his fingers around T013's wrist. T013 mimics the action. They stay clasped this way for a few moments before the boy lets go. "I'm Nahoa. Have you been given a name yet?"

"My designation is T013." It may not be accurate but Reanimator had said he could remain this for now. With as little as he understands everything else going on around him, he thinks he will take her word.

Nahoa nods once and his brows tighten but it doesn't seem like the same reason Alecto's had done the same. Instead of angling downward towards the nose, they angle up. "They didn't even put you through accelerated detox."

"No. What is it?"

He draws in a deep breath and releases it slowly before he answers. "Depends on the person. Most people are in pain off and on the first few weeks. There might be a few seizures at the beginning but those stop quickly. Hallucinations. Weird feelings like things crawling on you that aren't there or voices. And then you'll start feeling."

That does not sound pleasant but if it is necessary to integrate with the other Swimmers, T013 will not refuse it. He would not disobey even if it was much worse than that. What other alternative does he have?

"I figure you're with Jonas," Nahoa says after a pause and waits for T013 to nod. "He'll help you through it when the symptoms start popping up. Nothing fazes him."

T013 almost asks when he should expect the detox process to begin, but then the Crane from before emerges from the workshop. Her upper lip curls when she looks at T013 but evens out at Nahoa. As they begin talking about things he doesn't understand, something about building new somethings, he decides to just observe. There are so many things he doesn't know about interactions with Swimmers. Perhaps Jonas will be able to teach him.

Through his observation, he learns that the Crane is called Gadget and she has been stuck on a pulse rifle upgrade that she's been unable to complete. T013 isn't trained for engineering so he doesn't understand most of what seems to be wrong, but he will offer her any assistance he can if it would be useful. It doesn't appear it will be just yet.

"How kind of you to wait for me!" Verne says from the main hallway as he strides into the common area with more flamboyance than is absolutely necessary. "Hey there, Tibs. How are you settling in?"

It takes T013 several seconds to realize Verne is addressing him with a different designation. "I have been shown my shared block."

Is this a new designation assigned to him? His stomach clenches uncomfortably.

"Good, good. Best to get the basics out of the way. Come on, pal. Lets get some grub." Verne drops his arm around T013's shoulders and propels him forward. There is no pressing reason not to allow it so he doesn't. T013 hasn't been given any duties to budget time for. He isn't sure what "grub" means but decides he'll just wait and see as Nahoa and Gadget fall into step behind them.

They leave the team dorm and turn down the only unmarked hall from the main hub room. The lights don't stay on there, flickering brightly and then dim, sometimes going out entirely for several seconds at a time. T013 is unsure why maintenance has allowed it to stay that way. There are others joining them, a sea of red and black uniforms with various symbols on their breast pockets that match the ones he'd seen above each of the halls. More than a few look at him for what he assumes is the lack of familiar uniform but no one stops to speak with him. Verne talks the entire time, much as Reanimator had and with as little apparent meaning. He doesn't let go of T013 and instead tightening his hand against T013's shoulder anytime someone bumps into them.

The hall empties into a much larger room. White tables seem randomly placed throughout the room with hundreds of chairs waiting, each spot set with eating utensils. No one goes to them yet. They form a massive but very disorderly queue in front of the wide kitchen window to grab trays of food as they come out. The multitude of voices bounce and echo through the room as bodies push for position in line. There's no real order here except for his team forming a semi barrier around him. Even Gadget shoves someone out of their way so they can get to the kitchen window. It's jarring to see when all he's ever known are tidy lines in utter silence. T013 takes his tray even if the food looks nothing like what he has ever seen. The bowl is filled with a kind of soup that has chunks of something or other floating in it. The smell is hot and something that tickles at his nose but he can't identify. The chunks of bread with it are dark and pitted with some kind of sticky additive spread throughout. He's still trying to identify it when they reach a table and Verne sits down at it with his own tray. T013 follows, as do the rest of the team.

"What's on the menu today?" Nahoa asks and T013 sees no reason to since there was a sign hanging next to the kitchen window. Had Nahoa not seen it?

Verne clears his throat and straightens in his seat with an air of authority. "The soup of the day is an infusion of fish broth with decadently moist gnocchi chunks."

That is not what the board said. T013 doesn't understand the way Nahoa quickly expels breath through his nose or the matching mouth stretch as Verne's.

"Paired is a loaf of artisan bread, delicately hinted with fresh seaweed and succulent glowfish chunks, baked within our massive brick oven."

"You're so full of shit," Gadget says quietly before stuffing a spoonful of soup in her mouth. T013 is very unsure of the meaning of "shit" at this point. He's heard it in so many different contexts that there's no sense to what the word actually refers to.

"To finish off is filtered spring water, ice cold and full of vital antioxidants and minerals to bring your body to peak performance."

T013 starts to wonder if Verne knows he's being untruthful. He seems to be done though because both he and Nahoa begin making the sharp repetitive sound together as Gadget rolls her eyes. Some kind of team ritual, perhaps. He will adapt, somehow.

The food is... different. T013 eats it even though it makes his mouth tingle strangely and then settles thick and heavy in his belly. The others talk among themselves and he just listens. They still make very little sense, but it is perhaps better not to try making sense of it until he has a better understanding of his role here, and theirs. Still no duty roster or even a schedule of any kind. Do they have schedules in the military? Is he to be trained at his assigned tasks once they're decided? He hopes so. There's a certain satisfaction in finishing a duty within or exceeding expected standards.

It's only after they've turned in their utensils and left the cafeteria that T013 realizes just how heavy the air there had felt with so many bodies cramped together. He has no logical reason for it and no one else seems affected. Perhaps they are simply accustomed to it. He will work to be. Shaking his head to clear the odd thought, he follows the team back to their dormitory hall. 

Another new face meets them there. It's definitely a Fox; the reddish tint to their brown hair would not be present in any other. It's cropped just under their jaw, framing the face, which is the first one he's seen so far that doesn't stretch in strange ways. Green eyes, tanned skin, and a very tall, thin frame. The Fox acknowledges them with a look but doesn't offer more until Verne goes to clap their hand on his shoulder.

"Missed you at dinner again, buddy," Verne says with a strange sway in his voice through the words.

"I ate with the commander," the Fox replies quietly and the voice is finally what tells T013 what sex the Fox is. The voice is even and low within standard levels for a male, even if little else on the Fox hints either way. The tone is familiar and T013 wonders if he is also from the Dome. He will ask later. Verne and the Fox continue speaking as Gadget's responses seem to mostly consist of sharply said words and the rolling of her eyes.

Nahoa remains at T013's side and leans in close to murmur, "He's still recovering."

"Recovering?" What that could mean, T013 isn't sure he wants to know.

"Box sickness. He got hit pretty hard." It must be obvious that T013 doesn't understand because Nahoa adds, "Brain damage from cryo storage."

Citizens are never frozen, but Swimmers aren't citizens. It had always been a vague thing in the back of his mind, knowing that freezing happened. He doesn't remember being told it could have lasting physical side effects. Had he known before... Well. It wouldn't have mattered either way. It is for the good of the Dome. Instead of wasting those found to be unable to contribute or simply _extra_, they were put into cryo storage to be thawed out when the military needed them. It suddenly occurs to T013 that he has no idea just how many people are being kept for future military use. Not many or it would quickly overwhelm their resources, and birth rates are strictly enforced within the Dome itself. He thinks, anyway.

As he ponders, the Fox moves away from Verne and towards T013 instead. His expression is still familiar, the kind he's used to seeing on the faces of others: flat and even. The Fox doesn't try to touch him and that settles T013 somehow even more.

"I am called Jonas," he introduces, confirming a suspicion T013 has been harboring.

"My designation is T013."

Jonas pauses, watching him closely. "You have not been given a name yet."

"No." Jonas doesn't seem surprised by the answer but his easy acceptance of it settles T013 a little.

"I am called Jonas _now_," Jonas explains without looking away or fidgeting the way the others do. "I was Michael Valentine last week and Jane Eyre before that. So far, I have tried fifty-seven names."

They seem utterly random and meaningless. T013 doesn't even know where such names could have come from.

"It's something I could change at will?" he asks. Maybe he will try a name, if only to prove he doesn't need such an arbitrary thing after all.

"There is no reason not to. It isn't a formal designation used to identify individuals outside of their team."

Then they kept their designations after all. That's good. That makes sense. He still isn't quite sure about having a name but he won't be made to give up his designation in lieu of it- except that he already has. T013 is the designation for a citizen and he no longer is. He doesn't know what the new one is. For some reason, he's reluctant to find out.

The confusing talk of identifying titles ends after that. The others start toward their bunks so T013 follows behind them. Gadget shuts her door so quickly that the slam of it echoes in the hall for a moment. Why she seems insistent on doing so, as far as T013 has observed, is a mystery. Verne shakes his head with a sigh and reaches over to grab T013's shoulder loosely, briefly tight, then loose again.

"Hope this first night doesn't suck too much for you," he says and T013 wonders if this is when he will find out what detox means. He nods once and Verne releases him to disappear into his room with Nahoa. T013 glances towards his own. Jonas has already gone in but left the door open to him, an apparent welcome. It's strange how long it takes T013 to move through it.

There are items sitting on his side of the shelving unit now. They look to be uniforms like he'd seen on the others and a basket of hygienic tools. Considering the placement, he guesses they're his. There's no sleeping tunic or patient clothing, but neither is there for Jonas.

Standing next to his bed, Jonas strips off his jacket to hang it on the side of the shelf. He kicks off his boots after, then sits down on the edge of his bed to regard T013. His gaze feels like a physical weight on T013's shoulders and he's not sure why. Sitting on his own bed, T013 slides out of his slippers and wonders if they will disappear as quickly as the new clothes had appeared.

"You were not administered any Tranquility in your meal," Jonas says without preamble. "Your rest may be disturbed."

That makes sense. He still doesn't know why Swimmers aren't given Tranquility when it seems so beneficial, but perhaps it's a question of resources. None of his duties had to do with the production of Tranquility so he's unsure of what is needed for it. As separated as the military is from the rest of the Dome, it makes sense that their resources would be different as well.

"Is this part of detox?" he asks and Jonas nods.

"The withdrawal is gradual. You may feel pain in your head and joints or have disturbed dreams over the next several weeks."

"Did you have detox?" Personal accounts could be very useful for setting up an expected timeline for his own.

"No. I was never given Tranquility. Most of the team hasn't either."

"Who has?"

"Nahoa briefly, years ago. Alecto also, as she was sent here after reaching adulthood." 

That surprises him. His idea that she might have been removed from the Dome due to her stature doesn't account for being kept so long. There must have been something else, maybe having to do with the limp he'd noticed. Maybe she will tell him if he asks. It may be a moot point, though. Alecto doesn't seem to care for him speaking to her.

Laying back on his bed, T013 looks up at the ceiling. Less than a day ago, he'd been working his decided occupation with steady attentiveness. It was a foregone conclusion that eventually his genetics would be harvested for continued Bat production, enough so that he'd never thought about it. Now, everything is different and he's not sure if he'll ever be used to it. Carving out a new routine for himself would be a lot easier if they would tell him what they wanted from him.

"What did he mean when he said I would feel?" he finds himself asking without even realizing he wants to know. The words feel meaningless but he knows from the way Nahoa had said them that they weren't. 

There's silence long enough that he's not sure he'll get an answer and then Jonas sighs quietly. "He meant you will begin having emotional responses."

It's even more confusing than the vague warning he'd received. T013 doesn't have any understanding of what an emotional response feels like or how to even know when he might be having one. Or when anyone else did, for that matter. Was the mouth widening part of that process?

"Are they painful?"

"I don't know. I've never experienced one."

Nahoa said that Jonas suffers from brain damage due to the freezing. Is that why Jonas has been spared the apparent discomfort of emotional responses? For a moment, T013 wonders if he can be frozen to prevent the same. 

"They don't seem painful," Jonas says after. "Most of the team have them."

"Most?" From what he'd seen, only Jonas appeared not to.

"C126 is still given Tranquility. He does not experience emotional responses."

One he hasn't met yet. And... that does not seem precisely fair. Why would the others not be given the same benefit? "What are his duties?"

"He is the combat team leader and Reader."

T013 feels his stomach clench with sudden discomfort but doesn't know why. It makes sense to have a Reader in place. They serve a very important purpose in keeping their society intact and he assumes the same could be said for the Swimmers as well. But... That had been meant to be T013's place as well, if the treatment took. It hadn't. There is no denying that and it will be better if he can simply work around the handicap. If he were a Reader, T013 knows he'd have a better understanding of his purpose here.

That the Reader of their team still takes Tranquility makes sense as well. The mind of a Reader is open to so many others that keeping links from debilitating them must be paramount to security.

The lights flicker off, plunging them into darkness. They don't speak again after that. T013 assumes Jonas has fallen asleep but finds he still cannot. The tight feeling in his chest doesn't fade. As the night goes on, soreness settles into his joints as he'd been warned and an ache forms in his head. The physical sensations are harder to deny than the thoughts that swirl through his mind.

Curling up on his side, T013 holds his head in his hands and tries to fall asleep. He's only marginally successful, spending the night drifting in and out of light sleep. By the time the lights come back on, he barely feels like he's gotten any rest at all. The sound of Jonas sitting down on his own bed has T013 rising, wincing as pain continues to throb in his temples. 

"I've brought a light meal," Jonas says and T013 looks over to the simple bowl and spoon in his hands. "It shouldn't make you sick."

"Why would I feel sick?"

"Nausea is common during the first week."

That strikes something uncomfortable in T013's chest. He tries to ignore it as he takes the bowl, grateful that the porridge he finds in it isn't very fragrant. If anything, it reminds him more of the Dome food than anything else he's seen and that, at least, is a comfort even if he's slowly to lose control over his own body.

He shouldn't think of it that way. He has to adapt. 

Jonas taps on a small datapad as T013 eats. The silence is helpful and his head hurts a little less. As he thinks over yesterday, he remembers the long hours he'd spent waiting with nothing to do.

"What are my duties?" he asks. Tasks make a day fulfilling and he desperately wants to have some semblance of normality back. He would never go back to the laboratory but maybe he could carve out a new normal for himself if he just tried hard enough.

"You're a trainee," Jonas says without looking up. "Your first duties are to complete weapons training and test for aptitudes so that a duty roster can be drawn up."

Aptitudes? "I'm Bat breed."

Jonas glances at him finally, quiet a moment, and then asks, "What does that matter?"

"What- I'm _Bat _breed!" He's not sure why but suddenly it's very important to make Jonas understand. He moves his sore body up to his feet, staring down at Jonas as the muscles at his brows and mouth flex and clench without his consent. "My aptitudes are known."

Jonas' head tilts a little. "Are they?"

"Why wouldn't they be? I'm on-breed-"

"Have you held a weapon before?"

T013 stares at him and the strange fire that had lit in him banks down enough for him to realize it had happened in the first place. His heart has quickened, skin feels hotter, and he has to force his fingers to uncurl from the tight clench they'd gone to. He has no idea why that happened or how to prevent it in the future.

"No," he says finally, nearly soundless as he sits.

"Are you able to operate boilers?"

"I don't know."

"Have you navigated deep sea currents?"

"You know I haven't," T013 says in a sharper tone and then wraps his arms around himself because he doesn't know what's wrong with him. He's never spoken like that before. He's never acted this way before.

"I don't know anything about you," Jonas retorts but it's as quiet as the rest.

T013 finds that it makes him... He's not sure. It's not good. None of this is good. "I think something is wrong with my body."

"You are experiencing an emotional response," Jonas says and T013 jerks his head back up, not having realized he'd looked away in the first place. Jonas stares back at him, steady and unconcerned. "This is normal."

"Nothing about this is normal!" It comes out loud and sharp and T013 doesn't understand what's happening, why his eyes suddenly sting and grow wet like he's gotten something in them and his heart is pounding fast enough in his chest that he wonders if it will burst through his ribs-

Jonas' hands grab onto his face and forces T013 to look him in the eye. He says nothing, just stares as T013 tries to get his breathing to even out or his body to stop shaking. As Jonas continues to hold on, he opens his mouth and takes a slow, deep breath, letting it out just as slowly. He does it again, a third time, and then T013 finds himself mimicking. The dual breathing goes on for several minutes and T013 realizes his body is calming. It stops shaking, his heart slowing until it no longer feels like it's going to tear out of his chest at any moment.

"This is called panic," Jonas says and T013 nods, accepting it because there is no sense in not doing so. "It will always pass."

"Why did I... why was..."

"Your situation has drastically changed over a very short period of time." Jonas lets go and straightens but doesn't move away. Somehow, the proximity makes T013 calmer still. "This feeling will come back time and again but it will always stop eventually and be easier to handle each time."

Less comforting but T013 nods anyway. He looks down at his hands, flexing his fingers. They feel sore and stiff and his palms feel raw, showing reddened divots from his fingernails. "I've injured myself."

"Marginally," Jonas agrees. "Withdrawal does strange things to the mind. The sudden change in body chemistry can have adverse mental side effects. These are usually temporary."

He will adapt. If there is one thing T013 knows it's that he has no other option. None of this makes the kind of sense he wishes it would.

"Are all emotional responses like this?" he asks because he's not sure he wants to do that again. Ever.

"I don't know." Jonas' expression hasn't changed the entire time and T013 remembers that he hasn't had an emotional response before. Box sickness, damage... These are things he'd never even considered before. "I've observed responses at a multitude of strengths. It seems situational."

That is even less comforting than the rest. T013 finds himself sighing, even though he has never been prone to do so before. The sudden exhalation unwinds something in his belly and he wonders if that's why so many of the others do it. He'll have to remember that and look into other actions that might minimize his distress.

"I think I would forgo them if I had the choice," he admits.

"I wouldn't." Jonas' voice hasn't changed or grown any stronger but something about it has T013 raising his gaze up to his face. "If I were capable of emotional responses, I would never give them up."

It's too strange to consider, wanting to experience this madness. T013 doesn't understand how it's even possible.

"Why? Why would you want-"

"It is what makes the others human."

T013 feels struck by that, the words sinking into his chest to grip his heart and cause it to jolt again. He doesn't know why except suddenly he understands what Jonas means, the subtle slight against himself that T013 abruptly cannot let stand. "You're human. Domers and Swimmers alike, we're all human."

Of differing importance maybe, but still human.

"You are more so than I," Jonas counters and then reaches for his datapad. "You'll have to tell me what it's like, once you've recovered from this emotional response enough to describe it. I cannot feel them but I would like to imagine the experience." 

"You wouldn't," T013 murmurs weakly in the face of Jonas' unwavering conviction.

"I would."

He's still not ready to believe it, even with how sure Jonas sounds. T013's body still feels jittery and like his skin is alive. It's... He still doesn't have the words for what it's like and that's somehow worse. If he's going to experience emotional reactions, he needs some way to describe them if only in his own mind.

It's a task he assigns himself. He's never done that before but it seems right, somehow. If anything, putting words to the feelings might make them easier to handle. 

**Author's Note:**

> If you'd like to read more, I am posting chapters on my [dreamwidth account](https://tgpretender.dreamwidth.org/) as I finish the second draft of the book for comments and critique. To be able to see the chapters, you need to ask me to add you to the protected tag I've got them under.
> 
> There's been a bit of a delay on the book as I was working on an entry to an anthology, Rebirth Dilemma but now I'll be getting back to it. You can find out more about the anthology on dreamwidth.


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